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About Lyon

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

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Imagine strollin' down Rue de l’Église. The old stone facades just whisper secrets from centuries ago. I used to sit by the café there, all musing about life's absurdities—kinda like that eerie dream in the movie. Y'know, sometimes I’d catch myself thinkin’, “Is this all just a show?” but nah, it's real.

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